


Adagio

by dragonofdispair



Series: The Perfect Song [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Exposure therapy, M/M, Past Violence, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 08:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10433856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofdispair/pseuds/dragonofdispair
Summary: Prowl takes Jazz to the park again for training, only this time it's not Jazz who's being trained.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the writing group's just challenge to write something. Beta'd by Rizobact.

It was just like training Two-Tone --  _ Jazz _ to tolerate constant networking. They were back in the park, in one of the most hidden lovers’ nooks, surrounded by the peaceful chiming of crystals. Jazz lay sprawled across his lap, more than halfway to recharge. The only sound he made was a rhythmic, contented purring. 

_ Pleasure _ crackled between them, transmitted by Prowl’s three datacords plugged into the top three ports of Jazz’s spine; the others remained locked. There was a chance another could still stumble upon them, slim though it was, so Jazz’s insistence on his unoccupied port-covers remaining locked closed when outside the apartment was indulged.

Idly Prowl ran his hand over his pet’s plating, through the short polyester fur on his back and was rewarded with a soft coo from Jazz. Then with an aroused rev as his hand stroked over the tail plugged into Jazz’s lowermost port.

_ Pleasure-contentment-lust _ briefly looped from Jazz, into Prowl, then back to Jazz, and Prowl stiffened at the assault of data. Firewalls started to slam closed to lock the invasive data out, but Prowl switched off his optics, gritted his teeth, and forced them open. That wasn’t an attack. Those weren’t the thoughts of someone who was even paying attention to Prowl’s mental processes. That was Jazz.

That was an uninterrupted loop. One of Jazz’s datacords was plugged into Prowl -- into his lowermost port, since they had found that trying to do this with Jazz’s cord in the one at the base of his neck triggered  _ attack _ responses in Prowl -- and Prowl’s firewalls were low enough to let the trickle of data through. A truly mutual network.

Prowl  _ did _ take his lovers’ cords when he took his purchased virgins to bed, usually in the top three ports. That was one of First Aid’s rules: a mech’s first sexual experience should not be with someone who refused to complete the loop. Lowering firewalls wasn’t necessary. Was, in fact, frowned on by First Aid’s medical expertise. Shunting that pleasure through his circuits and around his mind was prefered. So at the height of passion, Prowl had ignored the discomfort -- physical and mental -- of being plugged and enjoyed the interface, his control of the network, and his partners’ passion. It had been easy then; he hadn’t been capable of fear or disgust or hatred. Now… 

Jazz had said he didn’t feel like he was missing it, he didn’t need to plug into Prowl. Couldn’t even imagine what it might be like to do more than scratch -- deliciously helpless -- against Prowl’s firewalls. Jazz was not a threat. Jazz was  _ his pet, _ and Prowl refused to be ruled by the nightmares, of being held down, forced open, and his mind observed and dissected, that were surfacing as his emotional programming tagged more and more thoughts with appropriate emotions. Nightmares fed fears, and fears fed defensive rages… That was not a state of affairs Prowl could allow. It made him too likely to lash out, and if he couldn’t get to the tantrum room in time, that could be dangerous to Jazz. Not allowed.

So he was training  _ himself _ to accept this fully tandem network. They had tried with Jazz plugged into the top port, then moved him to the lowest when a cascade of tags had associated that with scientists and mnemosurgeons and he’d nearly lashed out…  

Jazz wasn’t attacking his mind. In fact, all of Jazz’s systems were very safely slaved to Prowl’s, with his tactical systems taking over and running and debugging his pet’s thoughts with the ease of long practice. It didn’t even feel abnormal for Jazz to not be in control of his own processor anymore. He just let his personality be shoved to a tiny corner of his own mind and enjoyed the attention. Prowl was as --  _ more _ \-- in control of the interface than he was most nights when the only use he had for Jazz’s datacords was to tie him up in them.

And yet… 

Prowl couldn’t settle. He was in control, safe. There was nothing at all like an attack on his mind going on, but he’d start to lower his firewalls, let Jazz complete the emotional loop only for his pet’s feelings of ... _ warm... safe... submission… _ to trickle into places Prowl had never willingly allowed another’s thoughts. This time Prowl slammed the firewalls closed again, so abruptly it made Jazz gasp in surprise, jerking him to full wakefulness.

In apology, and reward for his patience, Prowl fed Jazz one of the gold plated myomer-energon gummy treats he’d bought for this exercise. They were a favorite of Jazz’s, one that wouldn’t appear on the random generator because of how expensive and time consuming they were to make. Prowl had been practicing that too: attempting to choose things to feed Jazz without relying on the randomized list so much.

Jazz hummed as he accepted the treat. Prowl pulled thought-threads of  _ pleasure-delicious _ out of the stream from Jazz’s processor as he calmed. He examined the flavor from Jazz’s perspective as it melted, sweet and tart and...  _ Prowl-flavored, mischievously toying with the claws still in his mouth… _ Prowl pulled his claws out right as Jazz’s tongue flicked the sharp points gently. Jazz’s chuckle was only a huff of air, a brief interruption in his resuming purr. Prowl thought about punishing his pet, but Jazz was eager for punishment. He wanted to be scratched or shocked, fanning the barely-there embers of arousal into full flames. That was not what Prowl wanted today, so he only more firmly slaved Jazz’s actions to his own decision trees. There would be no more of  _ that _ today.

That only amused Jazz while he let himself relax entirely into Prowl’s petting, purring as he fell back to the very edge of recharge.

Prowl did not believe he could ever, truly,  _ desire _ this. So it was a good thing that Jazz did not feel himself bereft without it. Jazz could feel his own emotions looping, could feel Prowl’s, as they exchanged data along both sets of cords. He could feel it and had judged it pleasant, but not worth doing if -- and there Jazz’s judgements became muddled, shattering into a thousand things he’d have to give up about the way Prowl usually controlled the network connection, but it was clear enough: Jazz didn’t want this to be their normal method of interfacing. If he did... Prowl did not know what he’d do. Jazz was  _ his toy/pet; _ he did not need to do anything to/with Jazz he did not want to.  _ Jazz _ was the one who had to accommodate Prowl’s desires. Prowl  _ owned _ him. But Jazz’s desires… tugged on him. The more his emotional programming flooded his thoughts and memories with the appropriate tags, the more impossible it became to ignore his pet’s desires. He only managed by noting them, to use as rewards. But he did not know what he’d do if Jazz ever desired a fully tandem network at the height of passion.

When all was calm again, and Jazz’s thoughts were no more than trickles of  _ sleepy-safe, sun and warm, I gotta remember to write that (crystal)harmony down when we get home… _ Prowl slowly lowered his firewalls again, letting his pet’s thoughts into the closed off corners of his mind… 


End file.
